


The Eyes After War

by lal nila syrin (lalnilasyrin)



Category: Danny Phantom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalnilasyrin/pseuds/lal%20nila%20syrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her final year at Hogwarts, Hermione sees a boy she doesn't know. He didn't look that much younger than herself, yet there was something in those misty blue eyes that made him seem much older—something haunted, something she had seen all too often in the eyes of her former classmates and many of her current underclassmen.</p><p>"There are a lot of ghosts here, in Hogwarts, didn't you know?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes After War

**Author's Note:**

> Struck by the sudden whim of this idea… I decided to try this, for the first time… (I can't write the HP series very well, but… I-I wanted to get this idea out…)
> 
> It became a bit rambly and the tense was weird at the end, s-sorry!

Hermione sees a boy she doesn't know, when she goes back to Hogwarts to finish her final year, at last.

People she doesn't know is normal--there were the new first years and what remained of the first years she had seen during the final battle.

There aren't that many, and most of the school was still in shambles--not outwardly. Magic fixed most of it, physically, but the students... many had decided not to return to Hogwarts, after the final battle. Many were wary of the aftereffects of the war, and many were simply just recuperating from it. She herself was doing the same--except in the form of studying, because that was what she knew best.

The school was so small now, there were so many people but she could name all of them within a month. She had never been able to do that in the past, there was always someone or another she didn't know in the other years.

Many of them knew  _her_ , though. She was heralded a hero alongside her friends--but her two closest had not returned to school with her, much to her disappointment. She was rather lonely, without them, and honestly didn't deal with the fame as well as Harry ever did. The only people who didn't treat her any different from the way they used to were Neville, who returned to school with her, and Luna and Ginny, who were now seventh years with them.

But that was beside the point. She had been at this school seven--no, that was wrong-- _eight_  years now, and she had never seen that older-looking, black-haired, blue-eyed boy before. He definitely wasn't a student at this school--he had showed up around the end of October, which was odd in itself and no one had announced a transfer student--which would have been a surprise in itself because after becoming the final battlefield, who would transfer  _to_  Hogwarts? She was more likely to hear about someone transferring  _out_.

She had seen him in passing, and had to do a double take, simply because he was so  _odd_. He was simply standing off at the side unobtrusively, leaning on a column between the warm courtyard sunshine and the shadow of the overhanging awning. What really struck Hermione was that his eyes--the brightest baby blue she thought she'd ever seen--were gazing distantly past the people around him, staring off into space with a contemplative expression in his blank face.

A few students glanced at him warily as they ran past the hallways, trying to get to their next class in time, but he was otherwise ignored. Students didn't take well to strangers, but if he was on the grounds, then he couldn't have been dangerous--the school itself wouldn't have permitted him onto its grounds if he had been.

The hallways were soon emptying, and Hermione got a better look at him as the sea of black-robed bodies dispersed. He wasn't wearing a school uniform--not even a loose casual white-collared shirt or black slacks or anything that students normally wore inside of their robes. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. A  _t-shirt_ , in the fall, in Scotland? He must have been freezing!

Yet he didn't seem to notice at all. He didn't seem to notice anything, really, and she was the only one left around.

Classes could wait, she thought--she was more studied than the rest of her peers anyhow, and some things were definitely more important than classes, she had learned over the years--like saving the world and protecting her friends--and this was definitely one of those things. A stranger on the grounds, so soon after the fall of the Dark Lord? She could understand the other students' wariness completely--but something in her gut told her the strange boy wasn't dangerous.

She stepped up to him quietly, wondering if she would startle him if she spoke suddenly. Now that she got a better look at him, she saw a few things up close that she didn't think to notice before--his face wasn't as narrow as people's normally were, in fact he was a little round with baby fat still in his cheeks; and he was a little short, though that could have probably been attributed to the fact that he looked younger than her. Sixteen, at most seventeen, quite broad-shouldered yet lanky and scrawny for his age.

He didn't look that much younger than herself, actually, yet there was something in those misty blue eyes that made him seem much older--something haunted, something she had seen all too often in the eyes of her former classmates and many of her current underclassmen.

These were eyes that had seen war. And for the life of her, Hermione couldn't remember if he had been a part of hers.

"Can I help you?"

He startled her when he finally spoke, and her hand flinched instinctively toward her wand when those distant blue eyes were abruptly on her--when had he noticed her? Had she been so lost in her thoughts that she herself spaced out for a few moments?

She relaxed when she processed what he had said, her fingers loosening by her side. His eyes flickered toward her hand, but he said nothing--didn't even move to uncross his arms.

"I should be the one asking you that," she replied, "You've been standing there for an awfully long time."

"So have you," the mysterious boy shrugged, an odd lilt to his voice alongside the nonchalance, "I was watching."

Hermione frowned at that, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling ever so slightly. He couldn't have been watching her the entire time, surely? He hadn't been looking... but maybe he only held the  _appearance_  of spacing out. Someone who could appear so mundane could possibly be dangerous, she realized.

"Who are you?" She finally asked, "And what are you doing in my school?"

"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?" The boy asked dryly, raising an eyebrow quizzically. A spark of amusement came to his eyes--and suddenly, the war-beaten look was gone, and he looked much younger, much like he was  _supposed_  to.

"Oh," Hermione blushed in embarrassment, "terribly sorry. I'm Hermione Granger."

She would have said it was a pleasure to meet him, but she was never sure if she meant those words anymore, and had made a habit of leaving that part out these days.

A look of surprise crossed his face--she knew that look, she had seen it on the first year students' faces often in her first month here. So he recognized her--typical, considering her hero status, and she waited for the inevitable bright look of admiration and idolization.

Except somehow, she didn't expect it from this boy--the war-worn look in his eyes earlier indicated that maybe he could sympathize with her pains, that he knew what it was like to fight for his life... so why would he idolize her for it?

And she was right--the look passed and a soft but pleasant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So you're Hermione." He whispered, almost to himself, before he straightened up off the column and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Danny Fenton."

The bushy-haired girl blinked once, then took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. His hand was a bit cold, but that might have something to do with the fact that he was walking around in the fall without a scarf or a jacket.

"Have you heard about me?" She found herself asking when he released her hand, wondering why there was a sort of fondness to the way he had said her name.

"Yeah. There's a lot of people here who talk about you," he said, his voice softening just a bit, and she finally noticed what it was that was odd about his voice--he had an accent. He was foreign? Definitely not from one of the non-English-speaking countries, he spoke too fluently for that, though the way he pronounced his vowels was odd.

Hermione sighed a little. "Of course, I would only expect as much."

"He said you'd probably be back. Always studying, the brightest witch in your generation... said you had the brightest eyes and the best smile, too." Danny chuckled, shaking his head. "Though I'm surprised you didn't manage to convince the other two to come back with you--what were their names again? He said you three were always together."

The witch blinked and her mouth gaped open dumbly in response. People knew Harry more than they knew about herself or Ron, but this boy seemed to have no idea. How could he not remember Harry Potter's name, but seem pleased to know hers? In fact, he seemed to have heard about her from someone who knew her quite well, from the sound of it, but she couldn't remember anyone other than Ron ever saying she had the brightest eyes and best smile, besides Victor Krum.

"Harry--and, and Ron." She finally answered, staring at him incredulously still. He grinned sheepishly and shifted uncomfortably, looking away from her scrutinizing gaze. "Who, may I ask, did you hear about me from?"

"A guy named Fred," Danny replied, his voice softening again, as if he knew--

And at the gasp that caught itself in Hermione's throat, he stopped completely, his eyes clouding over with concern.

"...You okay?"

Hermione nodded shakily. "Y--yes. I'm sorry--I just... you knew him?"

"Not long. I only met him recently." Danny answered slowly, his gaze still on the ground, and Hermione's shock gave away as her eyes narrowed at him. How long was 'recently'? Fred had died only last year, sure, but if this boy knew him, then it had to have been before the Battle of Hogwarts, right?

"How did you meet him?" She asked suspiciously.

He looked up at her and his face fell neutral. A calculating look made its way into his eyes. He was being careful now--his answer was measured, picked from a longer truth he obviously didn't want to tell--but at least he wasn't lying. "Here at Hogwarts."

"I've never seen you here before."

"I've never been a student here." He replied back easily, "I'm only here because Professor McGonagall asked me to be."

It was then that Hermione realized he never answered her other first question. "Why would she--what are you doing here?" She nearly demanded, "You're not a transfer student, obviously. You've just been standing here for who knows how long."

Danny's eyes grew sad, and he looked down at his sneakers. "I came to... clean up a bit, I guess, after the Battle of Hogwarts. The headmistress didn't seem to know who else to ask--wizards seem to be content to leave imprints where they are. And she certainly couldn't have asked my parents."

The answer shocked Hermione, and the dumbfounded look made its way back onto her face. "What are you talking about?" Why would anyone, let alone a sixteen-year-old boy, need to  _clean up_  after a war that he obviously hadn't fought in? And what did he need to clean up, anyhow?

"...There are a lot of ghosts here, in Hogwarts, didn't you know?"

Hermione frowned at him, but nodded anyway. "Of course, there are the House Ghosts, and our History of Magic professor is--"

The boy's eyes trailed up and met hers again--they were cold and hard and sad, and they almost frightened her with their intensity. "That's not what I meant. Though I've met them--they're cool."

"Then what did you mean?"

"You're a smart girl, Hermione--if what Fred and Mr. Lupin said was true." Danny said quietly, "This place was a battlefield--what did you think I meant?"

And just like that, everything clicked into place. People had died here, on the school grounds, and many of them were her classmates--her friends, students like her who had aspirations and hopes and dreams they wanted to fulfill after graduating. Of course they might still be attached to this world... of course there would be ghosts.

Ghosts. Of her friends and former classmates and the people who fought so valiantly beside her and  _hadn't made it out_ , like she had.

Danny watched the horrified look of dawning shape her pretty features, his own eyes growing sad and regretful.

"He... misses you, you know." He said softly, "A lot of them do. I met a girl named Lavender who said she was sorry about the way she treated you, too."

Hermione's focus snapped back to attention, and she matched his mournful gaze with one of her own. "She... really? Lavender?"

"A lot of them have regrets, stuff they're holding onto... I've been trying to help them move on. I can only hope delivering a few messages might at least lighten their souls." Danny said somberly.

"Are they here...? All of them?"

"No, not all of them... a lot of them have already moved on, thanks to what I've been doing, but some... they want to stick around a little longer." Danny sighed, "Maybe they can't protect anyone as imprints, but they can still watch... and I'll let them watch however long they need to."

_Let them... watch..._

Hermione stared at him, confusion marring her face now. "Who  _are_  you?"

"My name is Danny Fenton," he shrugged, "I'm... I guess I'm something like a medium, right now. But normally, I'm... well, I'm a ghost hunter."

"Ghost... hunter?" Was this some sort of joke? "But--the department for magical creatures has never--ghosts are harmless! Well, except for poltergeists, but... there's no way to actually kill ghosts again, so how--"

Danny's hard stare was back. "My parents are ghost hunters too--and inventors. Somewhere in my ancestry, there was a witch hunter, and I guess we've always been involved with finding ways to kill the supernatural since immigrating to America."

Hermione's mouth fell open at that, and something cold seized her heart metaphorically at the idea of  _witch hunters_. When Danny mentioned America, she could finally pinpoint where his accent was from, at the back of her mind, but more to the forefront she was hastily recalling that America experienced a rather turbulent fallout with magic during the era of the Salem Witch Trials.

"And just like there are good and bad people... there are good and bad ghosts. I was called here to deal with that."

Hermione stared at him incredulously, trying to find words to respond. Too many things were going through her head at once, and she sputtered out oh so eloquently, "Bad ghosts?"

"Students and teachers weren't the only ones who died here, Hermione. You should know that--you were there, weren't you?"

The young witch's mouth snapped shut, and her eyes hardened as yet another realization dawned on her. The people who fought alongside her--Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix--weren't the only ones fighting in the war... there was the other side, too.

"A lot of them would have probably become poltergeists or worse if Professor McGonagall hadn't called me in so early. Grant it, some of them did, but it's still too short a time for them to have gained any real power--enough to harm any students, at least."

"You... you dealt with them?" Hermione asked shakily, scared by the idea that maybe the ghost of Bellatrix Lestrange or even the Dark Lord himself might still be around the school.

"Yeah. Though for some reason, I had to leave Peeves alone." Danny chuckled weakly, trying to lighten the mood, "He might be more powerful than the other malevolent spirits, and been here longer, but at least he doesn't actually mean to harm anyone. And that Bloody Baron guy seems to be able to keep him in check, so I've left him for now."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. Danny seemed awkward under her stare, so he continued rambling.

"I know it must be a really scary idea, having the ghosts of the war around--and there are still a few I haven't gotten to finding yet, which is why I'm still here. But the good ones--guys like Fred and Mr. Lupin and that Tonks lady, they did a pretty good job holding down the fort before I got here. They're here to protect you guys, definitely... they died doing that, I think they'll continue that forever. It's really cool to know they're here, right?"

"I've been back here two months, and I haven't seen any of them." Hermione finally said, "How did you meet them?"

Danny shrugged, shifting on his feet in a display of uneasiness. His eyes darted distantly away, just like he had been doing when Hermione first spotted them, before trailing over the empty hall almost warily. "I told you, I'm sort of a medium. I can see ghosts--even the really new and weak ones that don't have enough spectral energy to show up to human eyes. So I can see them, all around..."

"But--but.... you're so  _young_." Hermione couldn't help but blurt out, and then gasped and quickly shut her mouth, hoping that hadn't been rude.

"I was probably older than you were, when you first started fighting this war." The black-haired boy chuckled lightheartedly, meeting her eyes with a hint of mirth, not offended at all. "I started ghost hunting when I was fourteen--so yeah, I know I'm young. But I'm good at what I do--otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

She knew better than to underestimate people for their age--she herself had been underestimated many a time before she showed them exactly why she was often called the brightest witch of her generation. So she knew better than to question Danny's supposed skill. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, as of a couple weeks ago." Danny grinned, "My parents thought a trip to Europe would be a great present--though I guess it also had to do with this job."

"Your... your parents," Hermione realized, "You said they were ghost hunters, so why aren't they here? Why  _you_?" Hadn't he said something about McGonagall not being able to ask his parents to 'clean up' the school?

"Well, besides that they have a huge bias against ghosts and would probably indiscriminately get rid of  _all_  of them, even the good ones?" Danny chuckled wryly, shaking his head, "The headmistress did try to ask them, they're the most famous ghost hunters in the world, after all, and they do do their job well. She had wanted to get rid of bad ghosts, and she found them after a long time of searching for someone who could deal with the ghosts here in a way your government official guys wouldn't."

Then Danny sighed and looked down at his feet again, but this time he seemed almost sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "But... they couldn't even see the stupid school--no offense--and she looked a bit desperate, so... I offered to help. They were all pretty surprised."

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched up at she stared at him in confusion. "Your parents are muggles?"

"Yeah, I guess that'd be the term for it. It's a dumb term though." Danny rolled his eyes. "Seriously, who comes up with these words?  _Hogwarts_?  _Death Eater_?"

Hermione flinched at the word, and her eyes darted around instinctively, as if it would call one of those dreadful old enemies up. After a moment, she turned back to Danny, who was staring at her quizzically.

She took a moment to gather her last thoughts, before she asked, "So then, you're a muggleborn?"

Danny blinked in confusion. "What, you mean I'm human and... stuff? Yeah, I guess?"

"No--uh, that term means that you're a wizard who was born from muggles." Hermione explained awkwardly, "I'm a muggleborn too, you see."

The boy blinked blankly again, then laughed heartily. "Oh--oh! No, no, I'm not a muggleborn, or something? I don't have an ounce of magic in me. Professor McGonagall checked." He chuckled, grinning widely. "She was pretty surprised, too, when I said I could see the school, believe me. Actually, so was I, when I found out about wizards and magic and stuff--but after ghosts, nothing really shocks me anymore, least of all an invisible magic school."

The shocked look on Hermione's face must have been comical, because Danny's entire face lit up with his laugh. "I've never... I've never heard of a squib being born from muggles." She managed out dumbly.

Danny quieted his laughter. "And a squib would be...?"

"A person born to magical parents with no magic. But they can still see the school and other magical communities."

"Yeah, I'm a bit of an oddball, I guess. Or maybe it has to do with my medium ability--my parents can't see low-level ghosts either." He chuckled. "I guess it just means I can see all sorts of supernatural things, or whatever the heck magic is."

Hermione's eyes sparked with curiosity. "Have you seen the Thestrals, then?"

"The weird black skeletony horse thingies? Yeah, all around." He paused, "Wait, how did you know about them? Professor McGonagall said only those who have seen--" He stopped. "Oh. Never mind."

Hermione smiled grimly. "Yes... a majority of the school can now see them." She shook her head. "But never mind that. Tell me more about your... medium ability, I suppose you call it?"

He shrugged, "What's there to tell?"

"It's not a hereditary thing, is it?"

Danny was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. My parents never told me if they could see those low-level ghosts, and they never acted like they did whenever we passed one back home. Their inventions only detect ones that are strong enough to appear on the visible spectrum." He shrugged, "They can see ghosts who can turn invisible, with the right equipment, but not those who were never visible to start with."

"Is that why you started ghost hunting with them?"

Danny looked down at the ground, leaning back on the column behind him again--almost slumping on it. "Actually, they don't even know I can." He admitted, "They were surprised when I offered to help here... they don't know I've been ghost hunting."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? Then--but..."

"I fight off bad ghosts like they do, back home, but there are those low-level ones they can't see... and I help those guys. Unlike my parents, I know some ghosts are good, and some just want to be left in peace or move on." He sighed heavily, "So even if my parents could come in here to help, I think they'd be doing more harm than good. They wouldn't have been able to help out with the real problem--the imprints of those Death Eaters no one can see yet. They'd just blast the House Ghosts and be done with it."

"So... you offered to help." She paused, "How are you doing that, exactly?"

"Well, with some of the good ghosts, I've just been talking to them and helping them move on--some wanted to tell people they loved them, others wanted to say they were sorry, you know? The only thing I can do for them is deliver their messages or find whatever it is they're looking for." Danny shrugged, "With the bad ones..." he trailed off, then shrugged. "I guess it's my parents' method. Blast them and be done with it. They don't have enough substance to reform, though I do still kind of feel bad about it."

"How do you  _blast_  them?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious and confused.

Danny grinned, reaching into the purple backpack she hadn't noticed he'd been wearing till now, and pulling out what looked like a metal soup thermos with green accents, and a strange looking toy gun that seemed to be modeled after old space cartoons', also accented with the same green.

"My parents may suck at actually capturing ghosts, but they are pretty innovative inventors." Danny commented offhandedly, holding out the two items, "That's a mini Fenton Pistol, and this is our capture and containment device."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "This is technology--and really high-tech stuff!" She realized, "But--how do you get it to work here? Technology isn't supposed to..."

"Ghost tech runs on ectoplasm. As it turns out, Hogwart's weird disturbance field only works on electricity powered technology."

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it and stared at him, bewildered. Indeed, Danny was a strange boy--everything from the stuff he managed to bring into the school, to how he ended up in the school in the first place.

She watched as Danny stowed the items away again, zipping up his backpack and slipping it back on. His eyes roamed over the hallway again, before he turned his head a little and looked to the courtyard outside. His gaze stayed there for a moment, and she noticed a slight shiver passing his spine.

"Hey, Hermione?" He asked quietly, "There are a few ghosts here that really want to thank Harry and your other friends--the ones who fought with you. In a few years, they should become visible, and at that time, they want to thank you guys personally."

Hermione blinked, and stared at him. He had turned his body partway, to better face the courtyard, his eyes hidden by his unruly black hair. "But you'll have graduated by then, and you'll be going great places after this, right? You didn't just become heroes, you survived for a reason--and that reason is because you're great at what you do." He smiled a little, staring off distantly, "But after you all become great... find some time and come back here. They'll be waiting for you."

Hermione blinked at him, confused. She dared a step closer, peering around to his face. That war-worn look in his eyes was back again.

"I'll be sure to tell them that."

He nodded. "I should probably go then... got a job to finish, you know? And you're missing class." He looked back at her and grinned, before stepping out into the sunlight.

"Wait--you've been here a few weeks, haven't you? How come I haven't seen you till now?" Hermione asked, having been wondering that since he mentioned it.

"I've been pretty good at keeping under the radar. Professor McGonagall didn't want the students to worry something was up, so... I dunno, I mostly work at night and when students are in class." He shrugged, "But I'm going to be leaving soon, and I had to tell you that they all wanted to see you again, so..." Danny gave her a sad smile, "I don't really care if people see me. Doesn't matter when I go back. As long as I helped put a few of the spirits at ease."

"I probably won't see you again, then." Hermione seemed a bit disheartened. Danny was interesting--she wanted to talk to him about so many things, but somehow... being reminded of everyone she loved and lost, and knowing they were still there... maybe it wasn't the best time.

"Who knows," replied the blue-eyed boy, and he waved as he took a few steps further into the courtyard, "Have a nice day, Hermione. And it really was nice to meet you."

"Ah--yes. Good day, Danny... and thank you."

Danny smiled at her, before he turned around and looked up, as if meeting the eyes of someone much taller than him, and murmuring a few words she couldn't catch before he crossed the courtyard completely and disappeared around the corner.

A ghost, she realized. Danny must have been talking to a ghost just then--perhaps being led by the apparition to someplace he needed to be. Perhaps to help fight off or get rid of a wayward Death Eater ghost.

And that thought frightened her. The thought that, after all their years of fighting, there was still a battle to be fought... but not by them. Their part was done, it seemed, and now there was Danny--a boy who had walked into an unknown world with nothing but a call for help, and who had willingly given his time and his unique power to answer that call.

A boy who had walked after a ghost without even a hint of the fear that had instilled itself in her heart, and she couldn't help but stare in awe at the place the boy used to be. Surely, if he had been her schoolmate, he would have been a Gryffindor--or perhaps a Hufflepuff, she thought when she realized he had worried more about the ghosts of Dumbledore's Army passing on than about the Death Eaters not.

She had to wonder what had inspired such kindness and fearlessness in the young boy. And he was so, so young, she thought--so was she, when she fought in the war, no older than him, but she had known since she was eleven that she was involved in something bigger than her.

Danny had seemed like he knew too well what he was doing, and he seemed to like doing it. It seemed that he knew too well what his parents did and what biases they held, yet he didn't seem to hate them for it. He seemed too old and tired for someone who had apparently spent his time helping spirits he only happened to pass, and too kind and obviously empathetic for someone who apparently dealt with the evils of malevolent ghouls one time too many. His parents had seemed bitter and judgmental for dealing with the same things--so what made Danny different?

What had made Danny's bright blue eyes so alert yet distant, hollow yet hopeful in that familiar way hers were--in the way hers friends' eyes were--as if he had been though so much pain and hurt and loss and come out of it better?

It wouldn't be until a few years later, when she would return with her friends on the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, that she saw him again, standing unobtrusively at the side and leaning against a pillar as he watched the ceremony being held in the battle's honor. He would be cast completely in shadow, and she would only spot him at the back of the crowd when she went up to make her speech about the battle.

And then she and Harry and Ron would see the ghosts--and he would smile both sadly and in relief, when McGonagall gave a stern praise to all her former students about how proud she was of them, when Ron and Ginny and George actually broke down in tears at the sight of their brother, when Harry brought little Teddy up to meet his parents, and when Hermione finally made peace with Lavender, who thanked her for trying to save her at her last moment.

The ghosts had stayed--were staying--to protect the school in the way they did when they had died. Some of them intended to become resident ghosts, while others like Lavender smiled and finally faded away.

And when all the excitement would wear down, Hermione would finally catch up with Danny. He would have grown since then, much taller with broader shoulders and more obvious muscle, and the baby fat had faded, but his eyes were still the same. Hermione would find herself still wondering where he got those eyes, and why they still reflected the eyes of everyone else here--war-worn but healing, better now than they were before but never forgetting the events of the past.

She would introduce him to her friends, and then ask why he was there. He would say the ghosts called him back to celebrate the anniversary of the battle--their Death Day, to help them make something that would normally be a somber event into something more heartwarming. Harry would recount the first Death Day party he ever went to, Sir Nicholas', and Danny would make a comment about how he'd been to one too, apparently, since he had met the House Ghost a few years ago.

And when she would finally ask him the question she's been holding onto all these years, she knew it would be pointless because she had known the answer all along.

"Something happened to you, didn't it? To make your eyes so... haunted."

A wry smile.

"It was the same thing that happened to you, to make your eyes so old." He wasn't going to tell her the details, obviously, and she wasn't going to ask. "I went through a lot in a little time, and it changed me. For better or worse... I'm stronger now."

"You've become great now, haven't you?" She would smile back with a melancholy hint.

"So have you. You deserve it, after all those battles you fought."

And they would lock gazes, blue on brown, and a mutual understanding would pass between them.

They were young, and they had fought evil, and they had faced war. And the world was much bigger and more mysterious than either of them would truly know, if their two separate worlds were any indication.

And as she toured Danny around her old school, Hermione would hope that one day, she could visit Danny's world as well, and see it through his eyes.

Eyes that shone with hope, even after hopelessness.

Eyes that were wizened after war.


End file.
